


Finem Itineris

by Sky_Stone



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: AU, Canon Divergent, EDI lives, F/M, M/M, Mass Effect Multiplayer, Mystery Planet, Normandy stranded, Other, POV Changes, Shepard Survives (barely), after the war, because its fun, but they won't be in it much, eventually, injured Shepard, more characters for me, rejecting the endings, so do the geth, so does Anderson, they'll get their own stories, those cuties, will include some of my ME3 multiplayer characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_Stone/pseuds/Sky_Stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aftermath of ME3 and the Reaper War. </p><p>The Normandy and its crew are stranded on a new, strange planet. Struggling to repair the Normandy and fix communications, one question is on everyone's mind: Did Shepard survive? </p><p>Back on Earth, rebuilding slowly begins and the newfound camaraderie between species grows as they work together to fix the damage done on the Relays and work on getting home. Everyone is recovering from the war, some simple, some complicated. Shepard survived, but will he wake up? And will he recover from his injuries?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finem Itineris

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally decided to actually write a fix it to what I find is the horrible ending to ME3 (and actually got the courage to post it). It does diverge from canon, along with some head cannons for the custom Shepard that I chose to write with in mind of this story. I might not be all that frequent with updates, just as a warning. I am a full time student so I get tons of homework so I will be able to write sporadically. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, let me know if I missed any errors! :D

Watching the Illusive Man shoot himself was more relieving than it should have been, but the feeling was also tinged with regret. The Illusive Man had fought in the end. But, like Saren before him, he had broken free from his indoctrination only long enough to see what it had done to him and made him realize what he had done had helped the Reapers. They had both taken the only option they believed was left to them in the end. 

Staggering forward as Anderson fell to the ground, and dropping the pistol with numb fingers, Shepard leaned against the console to input the command to open the arms. It was about time they ended this. He watched silently as the arms slowly opened up around them, Earth stark in it's beauty despite all the destruction. 

Shepard slumped against the console, putting most of his weight on his shaking arms, letting his head hang for a moment before looking back up. The light illuminated him, a striking figure despite the ruined armor. His face was lined in pain, but there was a fire of determination lighting his blue eyes. His sharp cheekbones were scraped and bloodied along with his strong jawline.

Hearing Anderson grunt in pain, he turned around to see him sitting propped up by the little platform that led to the console. Limping heavily, he made his way to Anderson's side before dropping to sit down gingerly next to him, trying not to jostle his wounds too much. They stared out at Earth together in silence for a moment.

“Commander,” Anderson greeted, his voice laced with pain.

“We did it,” Shepard replied, turning his head to look at his friend, his short red hair glinted in the light despite being wet with blood and the longer parts of his fringe were plastered to his forehead. The relief was just barely trying to settle in. They had done it. 

“Yes. We did. We both did,” Anderson paused, his gaze trained on the view of Earth, ”It's quite a view.”

“Heh. Best seats in the house,” he replied with a rough chuckle, a faint smile barely gracing his full lips. The cybernetics showing through near his chin glowed and stretched as he smiled, some even showing through the hair of his goatee, the red hair black with blood. On the left side of his face, the scars had reopened along his cheekbone and onto his temple.

“God, feels like years since I just sat down,” Anderson said, his voice tired and rough. 

“I think you've earned a rest,” he replied, his own voice just as rough.

“Do you ever wonder?” Anderson asked, his voice turning contemplative, ”How things would've been different? How our lives would be-different if this hadn't happened? I never had a family Shepard, never had any children.”

“There'll be time enough for that now,” Shepard said, his voice a little sharp, glancing at Anderson from the corner of his eye. They would survive this. They had to, they had come so far. And his friends...Kaidan. He'd promised them he'd come back. And he didn't go back on his promises.

Anderson coughed out a harsh chuckle,”I think that ship has sailed. What about you? Ever think about settling down?”

He furrowed his brows as he gave Anderson an exhausted yet skeptical look. He'd never really thought about the after of the war.

“I'm a soldier, Anderson. Like you. Not really fit for doing anything else.”

“Sure you would,” Anderson said, his voice chiding. He'd always had so much confidence in him, especially when he had none for himself. 

He thought for a second. 

“Yeah. I like the sound of that,” he said, his voice holding a little longing now that he actually thought about it. “Not sure I'd be much good at it though.”

“I don't know, Shepard,” Anderson said, glancing at him from the corner of his eye as his voice turned teasing,”I think you'd make a great dad.”

Shepard barked out a short laugh, before a cough interrupted it,”Uh-huh,” he said a little sarcastically, his voice filled with a grin.

“Think how proud your kids would be. Telling everyone their dad is Commander Shepard!” Anderson was definitely teasing him now, his tired face filled with a sly expression.

“I dunno 'bout that,” he said, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat,”Not everything I've done is something to be proud of.” He thought of working with Cerberus, the people he couldn't save. Of the entire system and thousands of batarians lost because he couldn't save them in time.

“You did good, son. You did good. I'm,” Anderson paused, taking a in a deep breath,”proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shepard replied, touched at the sentiment. He turned his head to look at him, concerned when he noticed his head lolling to the side and his heart leapt to his throat. 

“Anderson? Stay with me, we're almost through this. Anderson?” he asked dully, reaching a hand out to grasp the man's shoulder weakly. 

He shook him once, getting no response. Placing his shaking hand at Anderson's throat he held his breath. As he felt the faint pulse under his bloodied fingers the air rushed from his lungs with a gasp, and he laughed faintly in relief. He was still alive. He looked down, to where he had shot Anderson under the Illusive Man's control. He was bleeding, just like he was. 

Struggling to lift his arm, he brought his omnitool flickering faintly to life, casting a weak orange glow around them. Frankly, he was surprised it wasn't too broken to function with the condition the rest of his armor was in. What he wouldn't give to have his visor right about now, to read Anderson's diagnostics from it.

Squinting, he noticed he only had one dose of medi-gel left which was a surprise, having thought he had used it all during the assault when they where trying to take down the Reaper that was blocking Hammer from getting to the beam. He looked at Anderson's face, observing the new lines on his face that were carved from exhaustion and fighting nonstop while he gathered the necessary forces to end this war. The face of the man who had helped him through his N7 training and the horrors after Akuze. The one who had convinced him to leave the Reds for a batter life, and the chance to do some good in the universe. His mentor and oldest friend since he'd decided to cut ties with the Reds all those years ago. The closest he had ever come to having a father. Without a single doubt or second thought in his mind, he administered the medi-gel, watching as it spread onto the wound, obscuring the hole his bullet had left. It would buy them some time while the Crucible took out the Reapers. 

Hissing in pain, he braced his hand against the wound on his side again, mindful of other places that were catching up to him now. His entire body was wracked with pain, and looking down at himself, he wasn't surprised to see blood trickling through the cracks in his ruined armor and covering his hands in blood. He was surprised Harbinger's beam hadn't fried him altogether.

His shoulder burned and throbbed, another bullet wound no doubt, from the marauder that caught him just short of the beam. And he wasn't exactly sure how many, but he could definitely feel a few broken ribs, as it hurt to breathe. And all that wasn't counting the burns he knew he had, or the wounds he had gotten from the fight to beam that he hadn't had time to take better care of.

Head throbbing, he let his chin rest against his chest as it got harder to breathe. Black was encroaching on the edges if his vision but unlike when the Illusive Man was controlling him he could tell it was because he was on the verge of passing out. He hadn't realized he had already lost as much blood as he had and he was exhausted. He consciously tried to stop himself from falling asleep. Falling unconscious with a possible concussion on top of everything would be bad. He started listing to the side in spite of that, feeling weak. Everything was...dizzy. Blurred around the edges.

“Shepard?” a familiar voice over the radio crackled through the static, “Commander!”

'What?' he thought, the panic making it easier to lift his head and stare at the blur of the world around him. 

He struggled to move, his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Everything hurt. He grunted in pain, trying to think clearly. Everything was blurry now. 

“Wh-what do you need me to do?” he gasped, struggling to stand. The mission was the only thing that mattered right now. Everything else could wait. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, every movement a struggle. It was all he could do to stop the black from covering his vision, as pain raced across his body. He needed to get up.

“Nothing's happening,” Hackett came over the radio again as Shepard struggled,”The Crucible's not firing.”

Using his arm to try and push himself up, he put too much weight on one leg. Definitely broken then, he thought through the fog, everything felt distant as he fell flat on his face. Gasping in pain as his head and leg throbbed even stronger, he pushed himself to get closer to the console. Every breath hurt something inside, every breath becoming a struggle. He could hear his breath gurgling, and tasted blood in the back of his throat. He held back a cough.

“It has to be something on your end,” Hackett said, his voice verging on the edge of panic. The fleet must be taking a beating out there, Shepard realized as he blindly crawled forward. 

As he edged closer to the console again, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees once more. If he could just reach...

“Commander Shepard!”

“I don't-I don't see...,” he slurred back as he struggled to reach the console,”I'm not sure how to-.”

He cut himself off. Through the blur and haze his vision had become, he could see a flashing light on the console that hadn't been there before the Crucible docked. With the last of his strength, he grabbed the edge of the console with his bloodied, burned and cut hands and used it to pull himself up. Confused, as his balance reoriented itself again, he lurched over the display, leaving trails of blood over everything he had touched, and leaving a path behind himself where he had crawled.

Guided only by the flashing light, he pressed the button. Immediately, everything around him started shaking violently, and due to his skewed balance he fell hard to the ground, clipping his head on the edge of console on his way down. Blood dripped from the gash, mixing in with his short, vividly red hair that now hung limply onto his forehead.

His ears were ringing, he realized as he struggled to open his eyes. The pain from his head was nearly debilitating, and the light hurt his eyes. Laying on his side, he couldn't find the strength to move anymore. Breathing labored, every breath shooting a lance of pain through him, he forced himself to watch. 

The Citadel shook again, and he could see the spread of the energy shot from the Crucible. He had a faint hope that those who had survived the initial attack on the Citadel would be ok. If anyone had survived the attack, but he didn't know if the Reapers had even bothered to attack the people on the Citadel or were planning on saving them for after Earth had fallen. The fleets were retreating already, trying to escaping the blast as the Reapers began to fail, some already exploding in place. Faintly, he thought he could make out the Normandy from where he lay, the familiar flight patterns making it easy for him to pick it out from the crowd of ships. They lagged behind everyone else trying to outrun the energy being shot from the Crucible as if they couldn't decide they wanted to leave or not.

'Go', he thought desperately, thinking of his crew, 'be safe...'

He closed his eyes, a silent laugh shaking his body before he gasped in a sharp breath at the pain it caused. It was over. And he was so tired, more tired than he thought he had ever been. Tears leaked through his closed lids to pool on the metal floor his head was resting limply against. He opened his eyes again, tears making his vision even more blurry than it already was. He looked on Earth again, and the carnage floating in space around it.

It's been a hell of a ride, he thought to himself as he remembered that last party they'd had and what Kaidan had said before they'd shipped off again. He conjured up a weak grin, his teeth coated in blood now, as he watched the energy expand to cover Earth. The splits in his lips started bleeding again, the blood trailing down his chin and into his goatee. The Normandy was already gone.

“The best,” Shepard croaked out, his voice rough with pain and barely a whisper, as his eyes slowly slipped shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I liked the extended version of Anderson and Shepard talking better and decided to include that instead.
> 
> Edit: changed tags and edited a bit.


End file.
